We're never alone
by IluthraDanar
Summary: Claire loses someone very dear to her. But she also gains a new ally, if she accepts the offer. Rated for anyone. Please review. I had to repost since I was having system problems. I added a second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**What happens when you lose the one person who knows you best? Claire has lost someone very dear to her, so of course, she feels bereft and alone. But there is one other person who knows her better than she does, better than anyone, and he isn't going anywhere. **

**A one-shot that takes place shortly after Brave New World. A possibility**

**I do not own Heroes. **

**We're never alone**

Claire Bennet had to get away from the repeated condolences and the oppressive hugs. She felt as if she would be smothered by the good will being extended to her. Leaving the rather large group behind, she headed for a bench that sat beneath a shady willow tree. When the breeze blew, several of the tree's tendrils reached out to touch her, but she ignored them. The day had not been easy for her. She had just lost her father. The one who had raised her as his own. The one who guided her baby steps, and dried her tears the first day she went to school. The one who told her to be careful of boys, and had pointed out that brothers were supposed to be the natural enemies of sisters. The one who let her pick the toppings when they had pizza, and who would apologise every time he missed a game. The one who constantly protected her, knowing she was special.

Her loss created the worst pain she had ever felt, worse than anything she had done to herself or had done to her. This kind of pain didn't heal. Noah Bennet was dead.

What no one had noticed during the service was the man who stood a distance away from the group of mourners, next to a tree, unnoticed. He would not have been welcome, but he came all the same. He watched as Claire extricated herself from a few sympathizers, and followed her as she walked over to the bench that sat across the grassy park-like setting. Since he wasn't wearing his own face, he knew no one would give him a second glance. When he'd seen her sit on the bench, the man stood to the side, out of her eyesight, waiting for the right moment.

Claire sat with her arms wrapped around herself, although it wasn't cold. She listened to a few birds singing in the trees, but couldn't even muster up any pleasure at the sounds. She appeared to be staring at the ground, but in fact, was deep inside her own mind, remembering events in her life that involved her dad. Like a movie montage, bits and pieces played themselves out, one after the other, until she closed her eyes tightly, willing the images away.

Claire placed her palms against her forehead, forcing back the tears that threatened to flow. She had managed to keep them at bay throughout the service, but now that she was alone, she felt she wouldn't be able to hold them back any longer. She was unaware that someone had sat beside her on the bench until she felt the wood bend beneath the person's weight. She gave the stranger a partial glance, before wiping a few traitorous tears that slid down her cheeks. When she looked up again, she was shocked to see Sylar next to her. He had shape-shifted from the unknown face to his own. Dressed in his usual black, he actually fit right in with the rest of the mourners.

Sylar placed his hand on her shoulder gently when he saw her start to rise. "Wait, Claire. I only want to talk."

Claire was in no mood to play mind games with Sylar, not today. "What do you want?" she spat at him. " There is nothing you can do that will make me feel worse than I already feel. In case you didn't know...."

"I know about Noah." He shook his head slightly. "About your father. I was there at the service."

"You were..?" She frowned as she looked at him. Right away she noticed a difference in his demeanor. His eyes didn't have their usual dark look. Sitting beside him, she felt no threat from him, so she sighed, leaned back, and placed her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry, Claire," Sylar said.

"Why should you be sorry? This was one death you had nothing to do with." Claire was confused as to why he was even here, awkwardly trying to comfort her like this. It wasn't his usual thing, making people feel good. Peter had mentioned that Sylar was trying to change. She knew he had been of help in New York when Samuel Sullivan had planned on using the carnival to kill thousands. She could barely believe what her uncle had told her later on. Peter said that he trusted Sylar. But could Claire trust Peter's judgement?

"I am sorry. Even though there was no love lost between Noah and myself, I know how important he was to you."

In her grief, Claire turned on Sylar. She stood and faced him, unafraid. "What do you know about being important to anyone?" She noticed the confused look on his face, and continued, going for the jugular. "No one cares about you, Sylar. You can't love, so no one can love you back. That makes you unimportant to anyone!" She didn't stop even when the confused look turned to one of sorrow. "You hurt me! You hurt my family, and killed so many others! If you had been the one to die, no one...would...care."

His head went back a bit, as if she had physically slapped him. Her words stabbed him in the heart, since they were reminiscent of similar words he had heard three years or so ago. Wasn't that why he had been trying to change? He didn't want to be a killer anymore. He impulsively held out a hand to Claire, who ran out of fuel for her diatribe, and slumped back down on the bench, head bowed, tears streaming down her face. As hurt as he felt by her words, he still wanted to make amends to Claire for everything he'd done to her.

"Why did you do it?" Claire asked, so low Sylar almost missed it. Thinking about losing Noah had brought back feelings concerning her other loss, her biological father Nathan Petrelli. She felt drained by her grief. But she wanted to hear what Sylar had to say for his actions.

"Nathan." He saw her nod slightly. Sylar thought back to that moment in the Stanton Hotel. He tried and failed to come up with a reason that would mean anything to Claire. "He attacked me. I wanted his ability. He was there. I really don't know, Claire. Like I told you before, it feels like a lifetime ago." He leaned back, placing an arm on the bench back, as he stared out across the cemetery grounds.

Claire jumped when she felt his arm touch her back. "What are you doing?"

Sylar moved his arm away a bit as he pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows innocently. After a few moments, he saw her relax against the bench, so he left his arm where it was. And he noticed that she hadn't moved away from him, when there was plenty of room for her to do so.

"You know that I thought you were him that whole time. Everything I said was for him, not you."

"I know, I know. Everyone keeps telling me, I'm not Nathan." He turned to look at her. "It wasn't my idea, Claire. I wasn't even there. While my body was in Washington, living with Nathan's memories, I was in California, inside Matt Parkman's head. You don't have to feel embarrassed, or angry for that matter. It wasn't me," he said, as he leaned closer to her.

Claire remembered the last time Sylar had whispered in her ear. The Stanton Hotel the day her father was killed. She involuntarily shivered.

"Are you cold?" Sylar asked, noticing the shiver.

"No! No, I'm fine." Claire turned slightly, so that she in turn, could examine his face. His eyes seemed sincere. There was nothing to indicate he was being anything but honest. It was like when they had been in the closet at the dorm. Then, he had been soft-spoken and non-threatening. And he had listened to her. The entire time he was pretending to be Gretchen, he had asked her questions, and let her talk about her fears, her regrets, and her wishes. And when she had discovered it was not Gretchen but Sylar, he did nothing to her. He had only admitted that he was having trouble being himself, and then he left her alone. And had, in fact, not harmed Gretchen at all. The entire incident had been a ruse on his part, to get the help she wouldn't give him freely.

"Why wasn't Gretchen here with you today, Claire? I thought you two were....close."

"It didn't work out. I was too different. I don't blame her. I couldn't 'be' normal. When the whole carnival thing happened, I had to be right there. Gretchen couldn't understand." Claire looked across the lawn at the grave site. People were finally beginning to leave a few at a time. "I was hoping she would. But she bailed after awhile."

Sylar felt for the young woman. He, too, at one time, had hoped someone would understand him, but no one had. It made him feel superior to them, so eventually he would leave them, sometimes dead, sometimes alive. Most people he met only wanted to use him anyway, Samuel Sullivan included. He didn't know if he would ever be able to trust anyone. Not until he ended up in the Parkman-created world, and had met up with Peter while there, had he spent any length of time with anyone, and one person to boot. In that time, as unreal as it had turned out to be, Sylar and Peter had come to know each other more than either had expected. The younger Petrelli brother had finally forgiven him for killing Nathan. More importantly, from Peter's forgiveness, Sylar had learned to trust. Now all he wanted to do was make amends to some of the people he had hurt.

Claire raised her head to look up at the sky. "The odd thing is, I think **you** know me pretty well. That day at the college, you said you used Lydia's power. It was then, wasn't it?"

Sylar gave her a slight shake of his head, closing his eyes briefly. "Not completely. When I...took your ability, I felt your pain. That stayed with me ever since. Maybe that's why I haven't been able let you go, Claire. We've **always** had a connection, since that day. When I said I wouldn't kill you even if I could, I meant it. It was only a slight surprise to me that your face showed up on my arm." When he had finished speaking, the hand which had been resting on the bench, he placed on her shoulder. She didn't move, or censure him in any way.

In fact, Claire said nothing to Sylar on purpose. She felt so bereft, that even **his** comfort was better than nothing. Yet she had to admit, there was more to it than that. He was right. They had a tie that bound them since that day. She had hated him enough to want him dead. He had hurt her beyond anything anyone had ever done. And always he was there to torment her. Over the years, it had almost become a game between them. And then he had died, or so she thought. She finally felt she could relax. She enjoyed school life, visited her mom and Lyle. And Noah, of course, who was always just a phone call away. The tears began to flow once more at the thought of her dad. She closed her eyes against them, to no avail. No more would he call her to encourage her, make her laugh, or even chastise her. He was gone. And that reality drew a sob from her that she couldn't stop.

Sylar didn't think, he only reacted. His arm tightened around her, drawing her closer.

Claire didn't fight him. She had no more strength to. She let herself be pulled into his embrace, where she wept into his jacket. She started to pull back, realizing she was looking to her old enemy for comfort, but finally her grief was so overwhelming, she gave up and let herself be comforted.

Sylar held Claire, and let her cry. So much had changed in his life. For the first time, he knew what it was to have a friend. It had taken Peter several "years" in Sylar's nightmare to accept that idea. But he had. And when they had escaped back into the real world, nothing between them had changed. And it had felt good. Now he had someone who needed him, and that felt good too. He waited until Claire had cried herself out. She pulled away from him, apologizing for getting his jacket wet. "Don't worry about it." he said with a small chuckle. "What will you do now?"

Claire wiped her cheeks, and patted her hair back into place, in case her Mom or Lyle came after her. "Go to school, I guess. It's what Dad would have wanted. Since I gave myself away that night at the carnival, I've had all kinds of people asking for interviews, demonstrations, and one even wanted me to go on tour. Can you believe that?" Claire smiled at the thought of performing acts of maiming on herself so that people could pay to see her spontaneously heal. It was more laughable though than the government agency that wanted to hold her to test her blood, like some sort of guinea pig. Noah and Angela were able to nip that suggestion in the bud with a bit of blackmail directed at important personages involved with the laboratory funding.

Her Dad had always been able to keep her safe. Claire knew that it took only a call, and he would be by her side in a flash. Who would take care of her now? Did she really need anyone? How many arguments stemmed from the fact that Claire didn't want her fathers protecting her all the time. Noah had done his share, and Nathan too. Both were gone now, so she realized that, although she would emphatically tell them to stop helping, she really felt safe knowing they were there. People had always tried to tell her about the dark sides of her fathers, but no matter what, she remained loyal to them both. She heaved a heavy sigh deep from inside her.

Sylar turned his head in response to the sound. He reached over, and tentatively placed his fingers on the top of her hand. Just his fingers, since he didn't want to intrude beyond what she would accept. He was surprised to feel her hand turn beneath his fingertips, her own fingers linking with his. Both sat silently, staring straight ahead, as if afraid that if either moved, the moment would be lost.

Finally, Sylar broke the quiet. "Claire, considering the situation we've found ourselves to be in the last few years, and who knows how many more to come, I want you to know that..." He waited a second before continuing, determined to get out the words before she could shut him up, "...I'll be here for you, whenever you need anything or anyone." He looked at her, saying, " And I'm not going anywhere." Being virtually immortal had that advantage.

Claire slowly returned his look. She smiled at what she was going to say next. It was insane, yet it felt right. "You know what's really funny? There's a part of me that wants to hit you for even making such an offer. But...there's also a part of me that refuses to say no to it. You were right. Both of us could end up alone forever, or we can accept what's offered to us." She looked down at their still entwined fingers. She said, "You said that I was afraid if I put myself out there, I'd be hurt. Well, I did and I was. But I finally realized that's a part of life. You learn to accept it, and move on."

When Claire heard herself say those words, she felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders. This must be what it was like to forgive Sylar. Forgive him for talking her ability, for hurting her family, and for the years of torment. She no longer felt anger or hatred. She decided that, in reaching out to Gretchen, which was Sylar's doing in a way, she found it easier to forgive her old nemesis, and accept his offer of friendship.

Claire made a decision. She stood, comfortably holding onto Sylar's warm hand. "Come on. Let's go."

He was conscious of the fact that she had not removed her hand from his. "Go where?" he asked.

Claire tipped her head toward the dispersing crowd. When he seemed reluctant, she gave a slight tug. "Come on. It's ok. Neither of us is alone, not really. But there has to be a start somewhere."

Sylar stood, and let Claire lead him over to the crowd of mourners. As a few birds flew out from within the branches of a tree, Sylar stopped Claire, looking up at them. Freedom was the first word that popped into his head. An eternity of freedom, now that things had changed. "We're never alone, Claire, you and I. We'll see it all," he said, referring to their longevity. He looked down at the petite woman at his side, and smiled. His reward was to see her smile in return.

Two met as enemies, and walked away as friends. Well, maybe not friends, but both knew that would come eventually. Claire drew upon his strength, while Sylar drew upon her compassion. The future looked that much brighter for both.

**A/N: I was thinking that I wanted to see Sylar and Claire have an opportunity to know what Sylar and Peter have (I hope), a change for the better, all anger and hatreds aside, with forgiveness the foundation for new relationships. No romance in this one. Thanks for reading! Any reviews are appreciated.**

**I still am working on the other two stories I have going, so anyone waiting for new chapters, please don't think I 've forgotten. Other things have been taking my time, but I write a bit everyday. My thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I couldn't let this story lie without some look down the years. So here you go. **

**A look into the future.**

**I do not own Heroes.**

**We're never alone: 60 years later**

Claire stood by a grave, the dirt freshly turned over. There was no marker yet, but scattered around it were bouquets and large floral arrangements that would not have impressed the person buried there. Still, Claire held in her hands a small bouquet she had picked up at a little florist show nearby. As she stood looking down at the grave site, she knew her uncle wasn't there. His soul would be doing in death what he had done in life. He would be flying.

Claire angrily wiped a tear from her cheek. Peter had been over 90 years old when he passed away. He'd had a good life, although he'd chosen never to marry. He went through medical school, and became a doctor. His life had been devoted to helping others, as he had always wanted to do. But as time passed, his body couldn't match the mind and spirit that was Peter Petrelli.

"Damn, Peter! Of all the powers Sylar offered you, why didn't you take the spontaneous healing? You would have been virtually immortal like him. Like me." She knelt down and placed the bouquet on top of the mound. She bent her head in sorrow, tears flowing unchecked. "I'll miss you, Peter." She clutched a handful of dirt, sifting it through her fingers. "I love you." She stood, slapping the dirt from her hand.

As she stood there, she felt hands on her shoulders. She barely turned before she knew who it was. "Sylar, how did it go?"

Sylar tightened his fingers as he replied, "Everything is all set. The headstone will be finished in three weeks. Claire, are you sure you don't want him with the family?"

She shook her head. "He wouldn't have wanted that. This is where he lived and worked. All his friends and colleagues were here. Peter was never Washington material."

Sylar smiled. "You're right. He wasn't." The passing of his long time friend hurt Sylar as much as it did Claire. When Peter was younger, and fresh out of medical school, Sylar had offered him the chance to take his ability to self-heal. But Peter had refused, more than once in fact. He was content to "borrow" an ability here and there. But he had no desire to live forever.

Claire leaned back against the warmth of Sylar's chest, and sighed as he wrapped his arms around her. The air was still cool, although Spring days were on the horizon. "I hate cemeteries. The only time I ever visit them is to say goodbye to someone I love." She turned in Sylar's arms and wept silently as he held her tightly.

Sylar bent to kiss the top of Claire's head. He felt her body shaking against him as the silent weeping became sobs. The sounds tore at his soul. The petite blonde had been with him for the last 55 years or so. He remembered when he'd first hinted at the possibility of a relationship between them. She had looked at him as if he were a new form of mold, and asked him if he thought that he might be too old for her. He had responded that in two to three hundred years, how much would it matter. At that she'd laughed, and hugged him quite impulsively. It would be the first of many hugs between them. Their friendship blossomed into a deep respect, and eventually love. Claire reminded him of the time he'd held her hostage in the Stanton Hotel, telling her that she might one day forgive him, and maybe even love him. He reminded her that she'd sworn to hunt him down and kill him. After that, both agreed never to bring up anything from that part of their lives. The past was gone, and only the future remained, which for them would be pretty much forever.

Claire left Sylar's arms, and turned away from him, wiping the tears from her face. She felt like she would never stop crying. "He was the last. They're all gone, Sylar. First Dad. Then Angela."

"Your mom, and then Lyle and his family in that car accident." He noticed she hadn't mentioned Nathan. It was part of the agreement between them.

Between them, they ticked off the entire family, and even those close friends who had passed away. As expected, only Sylar and Claire remained.

"Why did you stay with me?" She looked up into his deep brown eyes, seeing there only his love for her. "After the doctors told us I couldn't have children, you could have left me."

He took her hands in his, rubbing them to warm the cool skin. "Having children is for people who need to leave a legacy behind. We're immortal, Claire. We don't need to leave anyone behind just to prove we existed." He placed a finger beneath her chin, raising it so that he could kiss her. She returned his kiss with the familiar passion he'd known since they'd become lovers.

Their coming together had been surprising and satisfying. Even after 50 plus years, Sylar and Claire felt a love as new as it had been when he had asked her that first time to make love with him. Her eyes had gone wide, but she agreed there was no other way for them. They had opened to each other, baring their true selves without fear. Their love-making was passionate, raw and tender all at once. After years of animosity, they had learned to channel their anger and mistrust into something liberating.

"I love you, Sylar," Claire whispered as he held her.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. When he kissed her ear, she laughed. That laughter let him know that everything would be ok.

They stood looking down at the fresh grave, Sylar behind her, offering Claire his support by placing his hands on her shoulders. "Goodbye, Pete," he said. He would miss his lifelong friend, of a friendship borne from the ashes of years of hatred. They had made their peace once and for all long ago.

"I love you, Uncle Peter," Claire whispered. "You always were my hero."

Taking Claire's hand, Sylar led her from the cemetery. There were so many years ahead of them. Only now, they would be on their own.

**A/N: I was in the middle of this one when I heard of Heroes cancellation. It was a sad bit of news for me. I had come to love the show late in its life, but love it I did. The cast and crew are the best, and fully involved us in their world. I will miss it very much. Because of this show, I had found my muse again. I only hope I don't lose her. **

**Additonal note: something seems to be wrong with my reader counter. It looks like no one is reading any of my stories. This is hard on one's ego. It also makes reviews even more important, so that I know someone out there is reading. It's very difficult getting into writing mode, knowing we will not be seeing the show anymore. So help me by letting me know I'm writing to someone. Many thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I intended this as a single chapter, then went for a trilogy, so this is the last part of that trilogy. Sylar and Claire are still together, but for how long?**

**I do not own Heroes.**

**We're never alone : 2,000 years later**

Claire sat in the station, waiting for Sylar to show up. What if he decided not to. Would she leave without him? She heard soft padding heading in her direction. When she looked up, Claire saw the somber face of the man she'd spent the last 2,000 years with, off and on. They would stay together for the most part, but on occasion, they'd go their separate ways, only to meet up again decades later.

"I wasn't sure you were coming," she said, sliding over on the bench to make room for him.

"I wasn't sure I was coming either," he remarked.

"What do you mean? This is the last flight out." She grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. Something wasn't right.

"Claire, I'm not sure I want to go." His visage was one of sadness, but his voice seemed determined.

Claire turned on the bench, facing him with fear etched on her face. "Sylar, everyone I've ever cared for and loved has died. You're the only constant in my life. I refuse to leave you here. If you don't go, I don't go," she promised.

"Don't be insane! I want you on that flight." His eyes roamed over her face. The eyes that had often censured him as well as smiled at him, the pert nose he loved to tweak, the mouth he loved to taste. He bent to kiss her. "We've seen so much living, Claire. I'm tired."

"But Sylar, it's going to be like a new chapter. It couldn't possibly be the same. Don't you want to experience the changes? Or we could go somewhere more established. Several of the earlier colonies are as advanced as Earth now."

He pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her. His free hand took hers. "The way you talk, makes me think you want to go. You should."

"Sylar, come with me. Please," she begged him.

A flight attendant came over to them. "We'll be taking off soon. You'll have to hurry."

Sylar looked at her, then at Claire. He pursed his lips, and looked down at their joined hands.

Claire peered up at the worried, but very professional woman, telling her, "We won't be going. You can give our seats to any stand-bys you have."

The woman nodded, and walked away. It wasn't the first time she'd had people refuse passage. But these ones seemed so young. She thought it wasteful for them not to go.

Claire leaned against Sylar, closing her eyes. It was done then. They would stay here until the end, together.

Sylar chuckled. "Remember when I chased you all around your house? You actually thought you could get away by hiding in the closet."

Claire smiled. "Yeah, and remember when I sent that piece of glass into the back of your skull? Damn fire melted it, so you came back." It was strange to talk about the days when they had been mortal enemies. Now that they had decided to stay behind, the Rule seemed so unnecessary.

"I'm still sorry about Nathan."

"It was so long ago." Claire played with his fingers. "I love you."

Sylar bent and kissed the top of her head. "I love you too."

They stood together, and went outside. The sky was beautiful, filled with pinks and reds. It was unseasonably warm, but neither seemed affected. They found a stretch of grass and sat down. "We can watch from here," Sylar said. He heard a small noise, and turned to see tears flowing down Claire's cheeks. "Why are you crying?" he asked, startled.

Claire wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just can't help thinking, this is our home. I'll miss it. It's hard to accept that it'll all be gone by morning."

"Claire, there won't be a morning."

She let the tears fall, unable or unwilling to stop them. She nestled as close to Sylar as she could force her body. "What if we still can't die?"

"I don't know. Maybe we'll float around in space forever."

The idea was so absurd to Claire, that she started laughing. Sylar felt the tension leave him as he also laughed. They watched, as the last flight took off, heading for deep space.

Claire turned to Sylar, who bent to kiss her, their tongues sparring. He held her within his arms as she wrapped hers around his waist. When they broke from the kiss, she leaned her head against him, saying, "It's a good thing I don't feel pain. But you don't have that lack of sensation, Sylar. I'm afraid for you."

"According to the experts, it should be over pretty fast." He noticed the sky was becoming more red, and the air warmer. It was starting. "Claire, have you ever regretted being with me?"

"Of course not. I mean, not since we made our peace. You were there when I needed someone most. I never would have imagined you being my savior Now I can't think of my life without you." She looked into his face, memorizing his features in this, their last moments. "Think there's an afterlife? Maybe we'll still be together."

Sylar laughed. "I don't think I'll be going to Heaven, do you?"

Claire sighed. "If not, I won't either then. You won't be going anywhere without me, Sylar."

The heat was becoming oppressive, and the sky was turning a deeper shade of red. It was more difficult for either to breathe.

"We could go inside somewhere to wait it out," Claire suggested.

"No. Let it end quickly," Sylar said, noticing several fires cropping up in the trees across the city. Soon, everything would be on fire. The very air would be consumed, and Earth would be unlivable. Eventually it would just be a burned out cinder orbiting in space.

Sylar placed a hand on Claire's cheek as he looked into her eyes. "You'll always be a part of me. I think I knew that back in the day. I couldn't kill you then. I never would." As they kissed each other one last time, the Earth burned up around them.


End file.
